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Thailand’s Charms

Shopping for amulets, talismans, and a miracle...
During my visit to Thailand, I kept peeking down men’s necklines. In the deeply Buddhist country, amulets are worn for their power to bring financial success, enhance fertility, and all around protection. Specific charms even exist protecting crooks from cops and cops from bullets. If you understand the symbol a person is wearing, you just might get a glimpse into his soul.
Signs of the culture’s spiritual identity are hard to miss with the omnipresence of spirit houses, mini-shrines, even altars hanging from the rear-view mirrors of cars. The more dented the vehicle, the more lavish the altar. This is a culture that has faith.

Having faith and living righteously all pay off in the next life, when the virtuous one gets reincarnated in a higher form, one step closer to Nirvana. To keep in touch with the spiritual world, folks have taken to wearing sacred symbols, literally close to the heart.

Spirituality as an Industry
The amulet market I visited was a strip of sidewalk by the temple complex, Wat Mahathat. I was planning on souvenir shopping because after all, who doesn’t need a little help in the areas of health, wealth, and general success?

One stand had back issues of amulet magazines for collectors keeping up with the industry. A few issues were opened to bloody photos of accidents next to close ups of the amulet responsible for the miraculous survival. I quickly realized that my lack of Thai language skills and relative ignorance meant I was out of my league. Unless I wanted to walk home with a bunch of overpriced fakes and made up miracle stories, I was better off leaving the spiritual shopping to the professionals.

Most of the browsing was at the stands of freelance dealers with their offerings spread out, picnic blanket style. On the shopfront side of the street were passageways made up of permanent stalls with locked glass counters and certificates of authenticity. Collecters peered through microscopes at the tainted, dusty surfaces of trinkets for… well, here’s what they might be looking for...
First of all, an authentic amulet must be made of the right material, the most traditional being bronze, clay, plaster, or gold. (Plastic is considered incapable of transmitting spirituality.) For an extra dose of power, ashes from holy texts are mixed into the formula.

Secondly, a monk needs to activate the amulet with spells. Pieces blessed by a true guru monk with a history of putting out miraculous charms are worth more than the output of a young, unproven monk.

But what really gives an amulet value is a history of miracles and other protective feats. On that matter, Thailand-based writer, Philip Cornwell-Smith pointed out an irony: the lucky survivor profiled in an amulet magazine would be reported in the daily papers as simply a victim of terrible injuries. It’s all a matter of perspective.

What would Buddha think?
The use of charms flourished during a period in Thailand when warfare and mass migrations were a constant threat. Mass produced images of the Buddha in portable form helped keep his teachings from dying out. Unfortunately, the trend today sees amulets losing touch with the teachings of Dharma and gaining an “all-in-one” magic charm status.

More optimistic Buddhist teachers see it this way: amulets could serve as crutches for the spiritually underdeveloped. After all, if wearing an amulet helps you remember to behave virtuously, who’s to say that good things wouldn’t happen? (Certainly not the laws of karma.) Why not use an amulet to get into the righteous frame of mind until that frame of mind becomes natural?

Deciding to go with the “amulets as a spiritual crutch” approach, I bought a handful of assorted deities at 3 bhat a piece. Picking them out of a pile of new, yet identically worn down pieces, I couldn’t tell if they were of plastic or clay.

In the days that followed, I stopped looking down the shirts of men and started asking about their charms directly. What might amulets mean to people on a personal level, away from the hard sell of the market dealers?

The bellhop at the hotel was shy about pulling his out. His pendant was a symbol and of a material from his mother’s village. He said he wore it for a sense of security.

The owner of a foreign bookstore willingly showed me his but waved aside my questions of magic spells and religious significance. “I don’t wear this image because it has a meaning. I wear it for me. I wear it for my mind.” He tapped his temples and waved his hands in the air above his head. Though he downplayed the significance of holy symbolism, his gesture suggested that a connection between him and a greater power somehow exists after all.

[originally published in Weekender Magazine/ Jan. 02-15, 2007]

 
 © karin ling